


The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

by articcat621



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Language, Moulin Rouge References, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:58:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/articcat621/pseuds/articcat621
Summary: Hermione didn't know that her world would change after visiting Godric's Hollow, the local cabaret.





	The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HarmonyAtTheMovies](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HarmonyAtTheMovies) collection. 

> **Prompt:** Moulin Rouge (2001)
> 
> Many thanks to my beta gaeilgerua for looking this over. 
> 
> Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

Hermione Granger has never even heard of Godric's Hollow before today, but she found herself standing awkwardly in line with Ginny, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She twisted her hands awkwardly as she stood next to her friend. She wanted to get inside before anyone noticed the two of them standing in the line.

The redhead chuckled, shaking her head. “Tell me again,” she drawled, “how watching men dance is in any way shameful?”

“Shut up,” Hermione hissed, “you know very well how little dancing is actually involved!” She could feel her cheeks burn in embarrassment, and she wondered why again she had allowed Ginny to convince her this was a good idea.

“On the contrary – it is a wonderful art form.” Ginny grinned, absolutely loving the uncomfortable look on Hermione's face.

“Must you be so smug?”

She laughed again. “Oh, Hermione. I’m simply excited for you! You finally have a chance to see your favourite author. It’s wonderful, truly. I'm beyond ecstatic.” Ginny waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione rubbed her arms, keeping out the winter chill through sheer force of will. “Yes, well. That he has become the bartender of this particular… establishment… is just – oh, it is _ridiculous_,” she whined, shaking her head. “Why could we not arrange to meet him elsewhere?”

“It will all become clear,” intoned Ginny, looking away. She bounced on the heels of her feet, her excitement obvious. 

Ahead of them, the line advances. _Thank Merlin_, Hermione thought to herself.

* * *

Inside of Godric's Hollow, the atmosphere was lively and the patrons were in high spirits as men in various stages of undress walk around with warm smiles and more than a wink or two. One, in particular, draws Hermione’s gaze - a man with dark hair and a hint of cheekiness in his smirk - but she quickly looks away, feeling the blush burn her cheeks. She wasn't there to ogle the workers…

"Why don't we get a table?" Ginny suggested, looking around the packed club.

Looking around at the crowded bar, Hermione nodded. "Let's find one, then." She knew she'd likely have to wait until the end of the night to be able to meet her author, but she couldn't shake the feeling of frustration. Following Ginny to an empty table, she sat down, craning her neck to look at the two bartenders currently serving. She vaguely wonders which of them was the author she was hoping to meet.

Suddenly, the lights dim.

Ginny grinned excitedly, clapping her hands together quietly. She looked at Hermione, her blue eyes full of mischief. “It’s about to start!”

“I cannot believe we are really doing this,” Hermione whispered, but she couldn't keep the hint of anticipation from her voice. In truth, the whole experience was a little exciting. She had heard stories of places like this - often spoken through hangovers from a ‘ladies night out’. But to experience it firsthand… well, she had no shame in admitting it was something far different from her usual Friday night.

And then the lights go out completely.

In the quiet, Hermione feels a sudden thrill up her spine. She clenched her hands together, her body rigid in anticipation. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but it excited her in an unexpected way.

“Women,” drawls a rich and husky voice, “are glad to die for love…”

The stage explodes in a riot of colours, men in detailed, flashy costumes and big smiles dancing around for the showy number. Usually, she wouldn't care for something so over the top and extravagant, but she is drawn to the source of that voice – the dark-haired man she had seen earlier, centre stage, taking the lead on the song. It is a flashy affair, various cannons of paint and sparkles going off, and it was a song most would already know - but she found herself enthralled by his seductive moves. She leant forward slightly in her chair, catching herself - but not before he catches her eye and throws her a smile that sends a warmth through her chest.

All too soon, the number is over, and Hermione claps her hands along with the rest of the crowd, her smile bright as she cheered with Ginny. She felt mesmerized by what she had just witnessed.

The leader of the show takes the microphone, grinning as he looked out into the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, the incredible Harry Potter!”

Hermione stops, her smile falling. “What?” the word whooshes out, and she feels like the rug had just been pulled out from under her. For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

It could not be - it simply couldn't… There was no way her favourite author was this lead performer. She couldn't tear her gaze from him as Harry gave a short bow, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses to those in the audience.

Beside her, Ginny grinned, her smug expression revealing that she knew all along. “So. Want to meet him?”

At Hermione’s blank look, Ginny laughed. “I’ve arranged a meeting between the two of you, alone.”

She felt her stomach churn with disbelief. “What?” she asked.

Ginny laughed. “You heard me right, so let’s go, Hermione!”

* * *

Harry takes a deep breath as he tied the silk robe around his waist. It had been a good night, surprisingly - decent tips, and Neville had been in fine form, too. They had both left with interested parties, and now he had to prepare for his. He took another deep breath, he honestly hated this part of his job, but alas, it paid the bills.

Knowing there was no use in putting it off, he opened the door to his private chambers and smiled brightly.

“Now, where shall we begin, my sweet?”

The woman jumped in surprise, and there is a look of terror in her expression - Harry inwardly cringes. She had clearly been set up her redheaded companion, but money had swapped hands, so he would guide her through it as best he could. He offered his hand to her, smile softening. It wasn't the first time he had worked with someone inexperienced.

“It’s alright. I don’t bite.” He flashed her a smile. "Unless that something that you're into." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

There was a faint hint of a smile on her features at his teasing. Harry grinned. As he took in her appearance, he realised that she was rather beautiful. Her eyes were a warm brown – they reminded him of honey. Her hair was curly and unruly, as though it was it's own being entirely. Vaguely, he wondered what her hair looked like first thing in the morning, and he found himself wanting to see it for himself.

“Sorry. I am not usually this nervous," she muttered, averting her gaze from his.

“Don’t worry, plenty of people are." He flashed her another reassuring smile. "Would it help you relax if I gave you a massage?”

“What?” she asked, looking at him, her eyes wide in a mixture of confusion and surprise.

“I’ve got some oils through there -”

“Ah!” She shook her head firmly, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “That is not necessary! I - I am not a - what I mean is, I am here because of your books!” She paused, shaking her head once more. "I'm usually more eloquent than this… Sorry." She blushed sheepishly.

He stares at her for a long moment, and then, without being able to hold it back, he started laughing.

“You like my _writing_?” Harry asked, looking at her in surprise. At her terrified nod, he started laughing even harder.

“I – are you… are you alright?” she asked nervously. She twisted her hands together, watching him warily. 

“Oh, Merlin, I needed that. Thank you, honestly. This is definitely a first for me. I never thought I’d see the day an attractive woman came to me to talk about my _literature_.” He shook his head, still grinning. “First time in a long time that someone has had me lost for words. Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Hermione. Hermione Granger.”

“Well, Hermione, it’s nice to meet my one and only fan.” Harry chuckled. He moved toward the bar and poured himself a drink. “Of my writing, at least… I know I have plenty of other fans that like my other talents.” He winked at her. 

“I – I was hoping I could…" Hermione trailed off. She coughed awkwardly. 

“You brought something for me to read?” Harry looked at her, and he realised he found her nervousness to be rather endearing. He typically didn't meet people like her in his line of work, and it was refreshing.

“To listen to! It, ah... it is a poem. I know poetry is not your passion, but I thought you might be able to give me some pointers nonetheless.” Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide and full of hope.

Harry couldn't resist the look in her eyes. “I'd love to. Come and sit down.” He gestured for her to follow him into the lounge area of his room. It was decorated lavishly, with bright colours and jewels… Not his taste, but alas, it was part of the job.

“This is your room?” Hermione asked, looking around nervously.

He smiled at her. “You like it?”

She swallowed nervously. “It is… bright.” She tried to hide the look of distaste on her face but failed.

He laughed dryly as he took a seat on the sofa. He took a sip of the bourbon he had poured earlier. “Yeah, me neither. I don't sleep here unless I have a client.” He paused. “I prefer to stay in the bunks with the other showboys, you know? Don’t need the special treatment.”

She cleared her throat, hands shaking slightly as she brings the paper up to her face. “I -”

“No, no.” He gently pulled her arms down, lowering the page from her face. “If you have the page in front of you, I can't hear you. It's alright, just relax.” He gave her a reassuring and encouraging smile. "Go on, then, Hermione."

She took another deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. _ You can do this, Hermione, _ she told herself. _This won’t be an opportunity you’ll so easily have again, so do it._ Her inner-peptalk worked. Taking another deep breath, she began. 

“It's a little bit funny this feeling inside,  
I'm not one of those who can easily hide  
I don't have much money but, boy, if I did,  
I'd buy a big house where we both could live.

If I was a sculptor but, then again no  
Or a woman who makes potions in a traveling show,  
Oh I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do.  
My gift is my song, and this one's for you.

And you can tell everybody, this is your song  
It may be quite simple, but now that it's done,  
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words,  
How wonderful life is, while you're in the world.”

Harry once again found himself to be speechless, for the second time that night. He stared at her for a long moment before he cleared his throat. “Wow.”

She covered her face with the paper, a soft groan escaping her lips. “I know, I _know_, it is awful, isn't it? I just do not understand how to find the right -”

“It's _beautiful_,” Harry quickly cut her off, understanding that he wanted to stop the self-loathing and doubt from settling in her pretty, little mind. Once the mind started, he knew from experience that it would only take a moment to slip into that dark place. 

She peeked over the papers, eyes wide with shock. “What?” she whispered in disbelief.

“You're right, poetry isn't my passion when it comes to writing. But I read a lot. Kind of have to, you know? Women come here for three things, and romance is one of them, so trust me when I say that your writing is beautiful.” He leant back, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, whoever you wrote that for is going to fall in love!” He chuckled slightly.

She blushed, her cheeks turning crimson. “Truly?” she asked, her voice still quiet. "Do you really think so?"

“Yeah. Even _my_ hollow heart felt something.” He laughed dryly, finishing off his bourbon.

She stared at him in disbelief. “Your… what?”

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t be _surprised_, Hermione. Can’t go around having feelings in this line of work, it’s bad for business.” His tone was flat as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“That is awful!” she exclaimed, shaking her head.

“Not really,” Harry replied, amused by the expression on her face. The longer he was with Hermione, the more he realised that she wasn't like other girls he had met.

“If you don't feel anything, then you can't love…"

He shrugs. “Yeah. And?”

“_And_?!” Her eyes were wide, horrified at his casual tone. “Love is… love is a _wonder_, Harry! You wrote of it in your books, and love is so powerful. It can save people! It is - it is the most absolute truth that we can possibly know!”

“It's bullshit,” he deadpanned, though he was amused by her passion in her words, “and it’s dangerous.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward, ignoring her surprised "Oh!" as he pressed his lips flush against hers, his hand coming up to bury itself in her wild curls. He pressed his body flush against hers, enjoying the way she melted against him.

For something so unplanned, it is a surprisingly good kiss, Harry vaguely thought to himself. He realised she dropped her papers and felt her hands on his sides. She gripped at him, as she tenderly kissed him back. Emotion bubbled within him, and he realised that this kiss was different. It wasn't like his typical kisses with clients… This felt like _more_.

He pulled away from her abruptly.

She blinked, staring at him. “Harry...” she whispered in surprise.

“You felt that, yeah?” His voice was rough, and she shivered slightly at the sound, nodding. “Good.” He forced a fake smile on his face. “See? You don’t have to love someone to feel anything.” He tried not to sound too smug when he said it, but he failed.

“I -” Her jaw snaps shut, her eyes still a little dazed. “I just -” She huffed, shaking her head. Clearly, he had struck a chord with her.

Someone knocked at the door, and they both turned at the sound of a key.

“Shit,” he whispered, adjusting the glasses on his face, “Let me do the talking.”

“What?” Hermione asked, looking at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

“Trust me.”

Dumbledore entered the room, looking around with a glare on his expression. “What’s going on in here?” He glared at Hermione, who - to her credit - does not shrink away. “You didn’t pay for more than an hour. Why are you still here?” He snapped.

Harry has exactly one second to think. He didn't want to get Hermione in trouble, and to be honest, he wanted to spend more time in her company.

He leaned back, shaking his head. “Now, now, Dumbledore, play nice with my Muse.”

The only person more surprised than Hermione was Dumbledore. “Muse?"

“Yeah, well, you always said my books were a waste of time.” Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “But a biography will bring in the money if it's in the right tone. So I figure, get a woman to write it.” He gestured towards his typewriter on the desk in the corner. “We made a good start if you want to read it.”

“You started?” There is an edge to Dumbledore's voice that sends chills down his spine, but he ignores it and smiles at Dumbledore.

“Just the basics. My rough childhood, the usual sob-story that will bring people in. Nothing about the state of things now, that’ll come later. Obviously discretion is key, so nobody’s names are involved." He paused, looking at Dumbledore, hoping that he would buy it.

“I suppose she wants an advance for this,” Dumbledore muttered, glaring at Hermione.

“She was here with her publisher this evening. Details will be finalised in the morning, sir.”

“She’s quiet.”

"She's standing right here," she grumbled under her breath. It was clear she didn’t like being talked about as if she wasn’t there. Hermione managed a weak smile. “Better at writing than talking,” she offered to the pair. Harry nodded slightly at her.

“Hmmmm.” Dumbledore looked her over, his eyes narrowing before waving a hand. “Fine. But the final draft goes through me.”

“Naturally.” Harry grinned, knowing that Dumbledore had bought it and that they were in the clear. “And I’ll take the cover shot from one of our previous sessions.”

“Good thinking.” Dumbledore nodded in appreciation. “Keep the other boys out of this. They’ll only get jealous and want part of the profits.”

_Damn_. He had been hoping to get Neville in on this, but he could manage the project alone. Harry nodded, knowing there would be no changing Dumbledore's mind. The man was immovable. “Sure thing," he said flatly.

* * *

As the door closed and the manager left, Hermione swayed slightly on her feet, panic setting in.

“Hey, hey - come and sit down, you look absolutely terrified.” His hands were warm around her wrists, that easy-going smile back on his face. He guided her towards the sofa, sitting her down and then taking the spot next to her.

Hermione looked at him, not bothering to hide the panic in her eyes. “I cannot - I cannot write a book,” she said, shaking her head. “I barely write a _poem_, never mind a book about your life!” She shook her head. “Where would we even begin?”

“Relax, Hermione," Harry assured her. He didn't seem all that worried by everything that had just transpired. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m gonna take care of it, alright? You just need to smile when you leave and then never tell anyone you were here.” He leant back against the sofa. "Easy, squeeze."

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “What is going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry abo-”

“Do not patronise me," Hermione hissed. She pulls her hands out of his grip, scowling. “I am not an idiot, nor am I a fool. Tell me the truth, Harry, or tell me to leave now. The choice is yours. I won't be part of something when I don't know the whole story."

Harry is quiet for a long moment, and Hermione prepares to stand and leave. But then something in his expression shifts and the charm and grace is gone, replaced by something far more honest - tiredness. It was almost startling.

“The truth?” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “The truth is… this isn’t just some nightclub or brothel. Well, it is, but none of the guys here would have chosen it, including myself. We’re here because we owe a debt, and we’re working to pay it off.”

“Indentured servitude?” Hermione quickly swallowed her anger. “Surely that is illegal -”

“Very, unless you’re clever and careful. And Dumbledore is both. He's like a father to me… I can't run from this.”

“If he's like a father to you, how can he even demand this of you?” Hermione asked, horrified by what Harry had just revealed to her. How could someone do something so awful? She knew that the world wasn't perfect, she had seen it in her own life growing up sheltered by her overprotective parents. She had seen it in her best friend's incredibly poor family.

“I… I have a debt I can’t repay. It’s not a story I like to tell." Harry pursed his lips, making clear that he wouldn't expand upon that particular story. "But the others, they just fell on hard times. Dumbledore’s clever by trade, but this became a way to keep people in debt - room and board is always going up, as well as other costs, and debts that should have been paid off within a month are still going years later.” Harry paused. "He's manipulative. Comes across as the warm, grandfatherly type, but once he has you in his clutches, he isn't afraid to use you in whatever way benefits him."

Wanting to comfort him in some way, Hermione reached out and took his hand into her own. She squeezed it lightly. “That is so awful, Harry.” Her voice nearly cracked. She was so angry at Dumbledore, at this place, but a part of her was sad, too. 

Harry nodded, clearing his throat. “I know,” he said after pausing. “That’s why I need to tell people. That’s why I’m writing the book.” He paused. "Or we, will, if you'd like to assist."

“The truth of it. He will never stand to see it published, surely -” Hermione shook her head, seeing a flaw in Harry's plan already.

“It'll be a secret," Harry said, cutting her off. “And that’s why I said what I said. I’ll write a real autobiography, but when it comes to sending it off to be published, after Dumbledore's approved it, I’ll switch it for the truth."

"And it'll be too late for Dumbledore to realise it. It will already be published and distributed before he finds out what you've done," Hermione said, realising what Harry's plan was.

Harry nodded. "Once it’s out there, hopefully, the others can get free and leave this life behind them.”

“And you?”

“I can’t. I’ve made my peace with that.”

“Harry -”

“This is for them. For my friend, Neville. He’s only here because of me anyway, I owe it to him to get him a life that’s better than this.” Harry cleared his throat, and it was clear to Hermione that his emotions were bubbling near the surface, threatening to spill over. 

Hermione bit her lip, looking away for a moment. She wanted to do something - anything - but knew that acting out of turn would only bring harm upon Harry and the others. She wanted to help, not accidentally make things worse.

“What can I do to help?” Hermione asked, turning to look at him. “As your ‘Muse'.”

“You don’t have to -”

“If you think for one moment that I am going to let this pass, you have no idea who you are talking to," Hermione said firmly, placing her hands on her hips. "I can be quite stubborn, I'll have you know."

He smiled slightly. “Well, we barely know each other," he said, as if that was excuse enough for her not to get involved.

“Harry.” She reached out and took his hands into hers once more. She gave them a tight squeeze. “I cannot just let this happen. I will not let this continue to happen. And if the women out there knew, they would agree with me. Your book is the safest way to tell them, and I will help you in that if I can. So tell me, what can I do to help?” She smiled at him tentatively. "I'm not leaving until you say yes, you know."

He stared at her for a long moment.

“You're going to be bad for business,” he murmured, finally breaking the silence. His fingers were light as they brush against her hair. He smiled. "I kinda love that.”

“I thought you did not love,” she countered, sticking her tongue out at him teasingly.

He laughed. “Touche,” he drawled, bringing her hands to his lips. He kissed her knuckles tenderly. “Alright, then, Hermione, we need to write a book…”

* * *

Weeks pass by quickly, and Hermione visits Harry regularly, even to the point of waiting outside his room whilst he took care of other clients. It made him uncomfortable, knowing that her innocent self was waiting outside of his rooms while he serviced other women. Eventually, he asked her to come at specific times so that she wouldn't see the other women. Harry didn't want her seeing that part of his life any more than she had to. Knowing about it and witnessing it firsthand were two very different things.

As time passed, Harry found himself enjoying her company more and more. Hermione was an attractive woman, and as they spent more time together, he realised that she had quite the sense of humour. He also loved that she didn't want anything from him, she truly only wanted to help. That type of personality was rare, and it was something that Harry treasured.

He denied it, but of course, deep down, he knew the truth. He was growing fond of her.

He supposed that's why he almost ruins everything between them.

“I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m really horny, and you’re really hot. Can we fuck? Like, now?” The words had tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

Hermione spluttered in shock, dropping the draft they had been working on all week. “What?” She backed away from him, bumping into the dresser, eyes wide. “I – no! That would… That would be a bad -”

Harry closed the distance between them, pressing his body flush against hers. He ground his erection against her, reveling in her strangled gasp. "Oh, Hermione, it doesn't have to be a bad thing. We're both adults, you know. There's nothing wrong with two people having sex."

“It is not that -” She bit her lip, closing her eyes.

“Then what? Because you look like you're enjoying it, and I haven't even brought my best moves to the table yet.”

She shook her head tersely, and he chuckled, pulling away and grinning as her body tried to follow unbidden.

“Hermione...”

“You do not love me,” she whispered in a rush, covering her face with her hands to hide her embarrassment. “Oh, Merlin, I am sorry -”

“Hey, hey, it's alright.” He stepped forward and rested his hands on her waist. “What did you say?”

“I cannot – I mean, not with someone who -”

He let out a tired sigh. “Move your hands, Hermione, I can't hear you mumbling with you covering your mouth. Someone who what?”

She peeked out through her fingers, a sad look in her eyes as she met his gaze. “Someone who does not love me,” she muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Harry swallowed, his heart stops in his throat.

If he were a better man, he thinks, he would stop this. He would smile softly and tell her he was sorry, he would take her by the hand and pull her to her feet and let her walk away. He wants to be a better man, he really does… But he's selfish. If there's anything Harry had learned through his time at Godric's Hollow, it was that happiness was fleeting.

“Hermione.” His voice was tight. He reached for her hands, pulling them from her face and gently pressing his lips against each palm.

“Harry?” Her voice trembled, hopeful as she looked at him.

The words would not come, not today – perhaps not ever. He had a rule, and it had lasted him a long time. But this woman... Merlin, this woman had his heart, despite his best attempts to keep her at bay. He wants to be a better man, and right now, that means showing her what his voice cannot say.

He kissed the inside of her wrist, closing his eyes at the soft intake of breath. Her free hand cups his chin, her own lips kissing his forehead tenderly. There was a gentleness in her moves that Harry knew he didn't deserve.

“Harry,” she whispered against his skin. “Oh, Harry.”

Whether she understood or not, Hermione pulled him towards the bed, and he supposed that it is enough, despite the part of him that wants to do right by her. Still, Harry took his time, his moves slow as he takes her clothes off, gentle touches to soft skin and quick kisses that leave her smiling and eager for more. He would do anything and everything to keep that smile on her face forever.

“Harry, I want to -” She reached for his belt, but he gently pressed her back against the bed.

“You first,” he murmured, looking into her warm, honey-brown eyes. “I want to give you this.”

Her eyes widen as his lips kiss a trail up her thigh. The realisation of his actions set in. “Oh. Nobody has - I mean, I have not -” Hermione began to ramble, as she always did when she was nervous. She bit her lower lip, looking at him with eyes wide.

“Then let me," Harry whispered. He smiled up at her before lowering his mouth to her core. She slid her hands into his dark hair, grip tightening as he ran his tongue across her clit.

“Oh – oh, Merlin, Harry, _please_ -”

He curved his fingers as he pushed them into her, drinking in the sight of her body arching against him. “You're gorgeous,” he muttered. “Has nobody ever done this for you?” He looked at her, trying to hide his disbelief. How had this beautiful creature never…

“Never,” she gasped, writhing against him, “but if you stop now, I'll never – oh, there, yes, yes, yes.”

Harry was mesmerised by the sight before him. She was utterly beautiful, her face full of want and desire. He could tell that she was close to coming. He resumed his place between her legs, his tongue lapping at her core as he moved to bring her towards completion. He curled his finger inside of her, stroking that tender spot just right.

“Harry - Harry, _oh_ -”

Her legs tighten around his ears, her cry echoing around the room as she came. She arched her back, releasing him as she came down from her high. Her hands reached for his shoulders as she wanted him in her grip. Or at least, she tried to pull him up towards her. 

“Come here - I want to -”

He laughed quietly, crawling up to meet her, and is pleasantly surprised when she pulled him into a passionate kiss. It was tender and sweet, and she smiled at him as she pulled away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking into his green eyes.

He smiled gently at her. “Any time.” He brushed a piece of hair from her face.

“Your turn.”

He startled as he realised she has undone his belt without him noticing, and he laughed dryly as she tried to shove his pants down. “Are you sure, Hermione? I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."

“I want this, Harry.” She placed her hand under his chin and tilted it up slightly so she could meet his gaze. “I want you.” And she kissed him again, enjoying the way their lips melded together. He moaned as her tongue ran across his lip, lining himself up against her body.

It was strange to realise, but the thought arrives and does not leave. She wanted him - not the performer, not the man he pretended to be, but _him_. The real him. He was shocked by the very realisation.

Her body moved with his, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he rocked into her.

“Hermione...”

Her hands framed his face, kissing him hard as she held his gaze. “Please – please, Harry – I want you, all of you, please.”

He clung to her, pouring his love and need and sheer desire into his touch. He needed her to understand just how much he adored her. He kissed her, caressed her, and loved her until she cried out his name in a tone that made his chest ache.

Her hands clung at his body, trying to pull him against her as they moved. It was as if she couldn't get enough of him. She wanted every bit of him… All of him completely. 

“Oh, Hermione!”

His orgasm washed over him, and he spilled himself into her with a groan. Hermione reached up to kiss him, and he kissed her back with a renewed passion. Her lips lingered on his, and he found himself never wanting to leave her side.

“Mmm.” He chuckled as he withdrew himself from her body. “I've… This was my first time, like that, you know. I've never been with someone without it being… strictly business."

Hermione propped her head on hand as she watched him clean up. "Seriously?" she asked, looking at him with eyes wide. "You mean…"

“No, I mean -” He cleared his throat, looking for the words. “I've never – you know, made...”

“You've never made love?” She asked, sitting up. She took her clothes and began to re-dress.

“Not with someone I – not with someone like you.” His voice was hushed as he said it, as if he were afraid to speak the words aloud. The look in her eyes, however, told him that she heard it. He settled back against the bed, lifting an arm up and gesturing her to join him. She snuggled up to him, and he draped his arms over her shoulder. “Not like this. Never like this.”

She looked at him, her expression curious. “Is it so different?”

Harry paused, trying to put his thoughts into words. He wanted to tell her the truth, but the naïve expression in her eyes prevented him from doing so. He didn't want her to be aware of the harshness of his reality. So, he settled on a vague lie. “In a way,” he replied lightly.

She nuzzles into his chest, peering up at him. The expression on her face told him that she was absolutely smitten. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Not much,” he murmured, stroking her hair lightly. “Just how wonderful life is, now you're in the world." The way her eyes lit up at him speaking back her poem made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

* * *

As Harry moved on with his daily life, he realised that his feelings must have been showing. Enough for his best friend to notice, at least.

“You look ridiculous,” Neville commented, chuckling. “Are you finally losing your mind?”

Harry arched a brow, resisting the urge to smile. “Not much of it to lose, honestly,” he replied flatly, and the pair share a laugh before Neville clapped him on the back.

“Seriously, though, I’m happy for you. Of all of us, you deserve something good.” The look in Neville's eyes showed that he meant it.

“Thanks, buddy. I just hope it's the start of a better future for all of us."

“Better future?” Dumbledore asked, silently approaching. Both Neville and Harry froze slightly, as neither of them had heard his approach.

Harry grinned. “After tomorrow. With the business we drum up at the auction, it should be good for all of us. Right? The more money we bring in, the better.” He smiled fully at Dumbledore, hoping the old man wouldn't read too much into it. It wouldn't due for Dumbledore to get suspicious now.

Dumbledore hummed to himself. “You've been spending a lot of time with that writer, Harry. I don't like that woman monopolizing all of my star's time." He gave Neville a condescending look. "Come on, you need to get ready for tonight. I have someone lined up for you.”

Harry felt as if the rug was pulled out from under him. The ball. Harry had forgotten, in truth - an annual ball to showcase the best of Godric's Hollow, with an auction the next day to secure the services of the men for a night. It was one of the hottest tickets in town, and a huge moneymaker for the brothel. People came from all over to visit and partake in the event.

Harry swallowed nervously, following after Dumbledore. “Who?” he asked, trying to keep the nerves from his voice.

“A baroness. I hear she's got quite the deep pockets." Dumbledore grinned. "And, she's already keen on having you. So you just need to charm her and win her bid, and we’ll have a nice little grower to keep hold of until she gets old or poor.” He chuckled, as if he were a genius for thinking up the plan.

“Just a wine and dine, then.” Harry let out a deep breath. He could do that. Easy squeeze.

“Dancing, but if she asks for more, I would be disappointed if you didn’t say yes.” He frowns, looking at Harry intently. "Are you all right, Harry?”

“Just tired. I’ll be fine.”

“You should take some Sleeper Dust before tonight.”

“I don’t need it -”

“Harry. This woman is important. We need her. Take the Dust.” The tone in Dumbledore's voice broke no room for argument.

Sleeper Dust was the latest drug craze. When taken, it would give the user a long-lasting high without the fear of having that crash at the end. Harry had been introduced to them by a client, and Dumbledore had seized upon the opportunity to get more out of his team. Thankfully, few took them - Harry was sure they were worse than anything else on the streets but could do little about it in his own case. He had managed to keep Neville off the stuff, and to him, that was enough.

“Alright. Alright,” he relented. He hated using the drug, but once Dumbledore had made up his mind, there’d be no changing it. 

Dumbledore smiled, a shadow of the genuine ones Harry remembers from his childhood. “That’s my boy.”

* * *

The ball is a cacophony of colour and noise, and Hermione found herself quite overwhelmed. She hadn't wanted to attend the event, but Ginny had convinced her to go. Seeing as she wasn't there to participate in the bidding war, she didn't wear a dress. Instead, she was wearing a tasteful suit. There were women everywhere, wearing full dresses and skirts, complete with tulle, lace, and silk.

Harry is, as she expected, the star of the event, far too busy to even spare her a glance. Part of that hurt her, but she knew that he was working. But there was something… strange, about him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but Harry wasn't himself. He was loud, louder than usual, and there was an urgency to his movements that just seemed off.

Still, he seemed to be enjoying the event, and that was something. She was glad to see a smile on his face.

Dumbledore and a woman with a short, black bob approach Harry. Immediately, Hermione knows she must be wealthy, as Dumbledore seems to be pushing her closer to Harry. Immediately, the pair start talking.

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but suddenly, she sees that Dumbledore is looking at her, and the grin on his face makes her stomach churn. Something about this doesn't sit right to her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please find a partner and take to the floor, the dance is about to begin."

Hermione moved to the corner quietly, watching as Harry and the woman began the dance. They moved together in perfect sync, almost as if the two had practiced their dance previously. She complimented him, their hair almost identical. The smug expression on her face as Harry moved around the dancefloor made Hermione realise that the woman must have paid good money to be in Harry's arms at the current moment. She squashed down the jealously burning within her. She had no right to be jealous… Harry wasn’t hers.

_Even though you want him to be_, the small voice in the back of her mind whispered.

The band changed tempo and began to play a sultry number, and though many of the men are adept in the tango, all eyes appear to be on the couple of the hour. Harry is a force of nature on the dancefloor, it seems, performing lifts and dips with ease. Hermione wished it was her in his arms, but she swallowed the thought down. No time to be swept up in sentiment. Their eyes are locked on one another, and they act as if nobody in the world existed but them alone. It is romantic. It is attractive. To Hermione, it is awful. She broke their gaze and looked away from Harry, her heart aching.

She slipped out into the courtyard, taking a deep breath. While she didn't often smoke, she wishes that she had a cigarette on her so she could.

“I'm sorry.” Neville's voice is quiet, and she turned to find him leaning against the wall, his suit rumpled haphazardly.

She recognised the bloke, one of Harry's closest friends. "Neville," she said softly, looking at him.

“He's different, you know. He's different because of you. This whole thing, tonight? That's who he was before.” He pushed away from the brickwork, glancing towards the door. “He's better than this. This is just... business. This isn't him.” There was a sadness in his voice.

“It's awful, Neville,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked towards the door. “This... lie upon lie that you all must live." She shook her head. "I'm just so confused. How do I know that my Harry is the real Harry, and not the man out there tonight? How am I supposed to know?"

He shrugged. “You feel it in your heart, I suppose. Which Harry do you think is the real one?” He pinned her with a look that made her think.

A soft laugh broke through the quiet evening air, and Neville quickly pulled on her arm, dragging her behind the shrubbery. Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound of surprise when she saw Harry and the woman come outside, the door slamming shut behind them.

“Why, Master Potter,” the baroness simpered, leading him through the courtyard, “you are quite the charmer.”

“You make it a joy,” he replied smoothly, flashing her a warm smile. “I don't often get to meet such a beautiful woman.”

Hermione closed her eyes, and Neville squeezed her arm. She didn't want to be out there… She didn't want to witness any of this. She shouldn't have come tonight… She should have stayed home with her cat, cuddled up on the sofa and watched the telly.

“Oh, you flatter me so. You must have fallen for quite a few of your clients over the years, after all!” She battered her lashes flirtatiously at him, leaning forward slightly.

“None,” he says, in a voice that is thick with emotion as he pulled her in close to him.  
“Not one?” Her voice, quiet, surprised, carried surprisingly well.

“Well,” he says, “perhaps one very recent surprise…”

Hermione didn’t linger. She couldn't bear to hear any more lies fall from Harry's mouth. In that moment, she knew she had made a mistake and she couldn’t face Harry again… Not when her heart was aching painfully. 

Slipping past Neville, she headed back inside and walked through the main room, a brisk pace as she headed for the front door. Fists clenched, she swallows hard. Her eyes stung as she tried hard not to cry. She was nearly at the door when she realised she could go any farther.

Falling against the wall, she finally broke down. The tears slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks as she cried. Her chest ached, and she felt as if her heart was breaking in two… The pain was almost too much to endure. Her body shook with her cries.

Soft hands touched her shoulders, lightly gripping her. “Come here,” Ginny murmured, “come here, Hermione, it will be alright.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, looking at her friend with tears in her eyes. Her voice cracked. “It is more than I can stand. Why?”

Ginny cupped her cheeks, gently stroking them. “Oh, Hermione. You gave him everything.” She pulled Hermione against her, hugging her tightly as she broke down further.

“A mistake,” she whispered. “You warned me, I should not have gotten so involved, I -”

“Hush,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “Hermione, you need to take this in stride. You loved and lived, and that is more than many people manage in a lifetime.” She pulled back, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “All of this has happened for a reason. Remember that tomorrow.”

Hermione shook her head. “Tomorrow is the auction, there is no way I'm going to that, Ginny.”

“Hermione.” Ginny lifted her chin. “We can put all of this to bed tomorrow, and I want you to help me.” She looks rueful. “I admit, I haven’t been entirely honest with you about my motives…”

"Ginevra Weasley, what have you done?" Hermione asked, her own eyes flashing in a mixture of anger and mistrust.

"Let's go somewhere that we can talk in private," Ginny said, pulling Hermione towards the door. "I'll explain everything, I promise."

* * *

Harry woke up, his head swimming from the night's previous affairs. He stretched out in his bed, grateful that he was alone. He didn't want to suffer anyone's company in his current state of mood. His head still swam from the after-effects of the drug. He reached for the water by his bedside and eagerly drank it, knowing that he needed to get downstairs and grab something to eat before the auction.

By the time he makes it downstairs, there's nearly no one there. He assumed everyone was already getting prepared for the night. Harry picked at some fruits, grabbing them before he goes to head back to his rooms.  
Neville appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm as he went to return to his room to get dressed.

“Oi, Harry. You should know - your girl was in the gardens last night. She overheard you talking to the baroness, but she ran off before you stopped acting.”

His heart sinks like a stone as he tried to recall what he had said to Pansy. “Shit.”

“Yeah. I tried to explain, I really did -”

“No, it’s not your fault," Harry said, shaking his head. "I should have realised - shit. Shit, she’s not going to come back.” The very thought filled his heart with pain.

“She wouldn’t miss the auction, do you think?” Neville asked, trying to give Harry some hope. "Maybe you can try and talk to her there? Maybe explain to her what really happened?"

Harry shook his head. “Yes, she would miss the auction. You don't know her like I do, Neville. She won't give me another chance. We’ll have to finish the book ourselves, pretend like it’s come from her, and smuggle out the real manuscript… somehow. I’ll figure it out.” He shook his head, knowing that he and Neville would figure it out, but that wasn't the point. He felt like mourning the loss of Hermione, but he knew there wasn't time. He had fallen for Hermione in ways he had never expected, and now he would have to pick up his life again and continue in the knowledge that his heart was somewhere out there with her.

Harry honestly didn't think that was something he could easily do.

* * *

The auction was a roaring success, as it usually was. Harry wasn't surprised by that. He was surprised, however, when Dumbledore pulled him aside.

“With any luck, the new kid will be all paid up. Gives the rest of them hope. Well done.” He clapped Harry on the back, grinning.

Harry felt sick to his stomach. His own winnings would go towards Neville’s tab, and hopefully, between the pair of them, they could raise the two-hundred required to secure his freedom. Oh, Dumbledore would doubtless find another loophole or charge, but Neville had been sold to a very happy businesswoman for a hundred, and Harry knew he was good for at least that much, if not more. His friend would be free, he would make sure of that. He was so close to getting Neville out, he wouldn't let the opportunity slip from his fingers.

He knew it was his turn to be auctioned off. Placing a fake smile on his face, he stepped onto the stage to join Dumbledore.

“Ah, now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to the prize jewel of Godric's Hollow, my dear protégé, Harry!” Dumbledore smiled wickedly as Harry offers a turn, to various cheers. “Now, shall we begin at fifty pounds?”

Bidding is quick and aggressive - a conglomerate of women had apparently pooled together to try and best the baroness, but at two hundred and fifty pounds, they faltered.

“Two hundred and sixty-three pounds.” The baroness smiled smugly as the other began to mutter between themselves. It was clear that she felt like she was the victor of the evening.

And then suddenly, someone else stands up.

“Nine hundred and eighty pounds.”

Harry's head snapped up at the familiar voice. “Hermione?” he whispered, looking at her in disbelief. It couldn't be, but sure enough, it was his Hermione standing there, a determined look on her face.

She doesn't spare him a glance, instead she was staring straight at a shocked Dumbledore, hands on hips. The look in her eyes and the way she was postured made it clear that she was prepared for battle. “That should be enough to cover everyone's debt, should it not?” Her voice was curt, and it brokered no room for argument.

Dumbledore didn't answer, instead, opting to take a tentative step back.

“I would not do that if I were you,” Ginny said, announcing her presence behind them. “We have the place surrounded. In the name of the Crown, Albus Dumbledore, you are under arrest.”

“The Crown?” Harry looked at Hermione's redheaded friend in surprise. “All that time, she was -”

Ginny shook her head quickly. “I brought her in last night. Everything that came before was a happy coincidence," she explained quickly. She squeezed his arm briefly. “Fix this before it's too late,” she murmured in a warning tone. “She is not one to give second chances lightly.”

Harry catches Hermione's gaze as she approached the podium. He watched her as she handed Ginny the cuffs for Dumbledore. “Make sure they are tight,” she adds in a low voice, “he deserves the pain."  
She turned on her heel to leave, and Harry felt his heart plummet. He couldn't stand to lose her… He had to do something.

“Wait!” He grabbed her wrist. “Wait, I -”

Hermione turned, her eyes brimming with tears. She tried to pull her hand away, but Harry wouldn't release his grip. “Harry, stop. You made your position on things quite clear.”  
His fingers wrapped between hers, holding her hand tight. “Hermione," he whispered, his voice cracking.

She looked at their joined fingers, letting out a deep breath. “You –“

“You can’t just – look. You came into this world, and now you’ve broken the illusion that I've held so dear – that love wasn't real, and you can’t just – you can’t just leave. You can’t. I need you, Hermione. I need you.” The words fell from his lips, all jumbled and twisted, but he had to get them out. He had to try and tell her how he felt.

“You need help,” Hermione said softly, “not me. You have been a prisoner here - captive in more ways than one. You need to talk to someone, and you need to -”

“I don't need a therapist, Hermione, I need you!" Harry protested. He gripped her hands tightly, squeezing them, silently begging her to understand. "You heard me last night, didn’t you? You heard me talking to the baroness. Neville told me.” He shook his head firmly. “I didn’t - I couldn’t do anything. All I could think of was the woman I’ve fallen for. All I could think of was you.” He let out a deep breath. "Hermione, it's you… I-"

“But your rule -” Hermione said, cutting him off, the pain in her eyes nearly cutting him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close. “Fuck the rule,” he murmured. “I... I love you.”

“Oh!” The baroness shouted, rushing over to both of them with wide eyes. “Is this her? Is she the one?”

Harry chuckled, looking at Pansy with embarrassment. “Yeah. Yeah, she's the one.”

“Oh, well, _now_ I understand!” She swatted at his arm. “Don't let her out of your sight, Mister Potter!” She winked at them both before disappearing into the dispersing crowd.

Hermione's mouth was open in surprise. "What in Merlin's name was that about?" She turned to Harry for an answer.

“She asked me back to her room, and I gave her an excuse that she saw right through. So she asked who you were, and... well, she was quite kind about it all, really. Let me slink away and promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.” Harry blushed, casting his gaze downwards. "You only heard the beginning of the conversation, last night, not the truth of it all."

“Oh. Oh, I thought…” Hermione trailed off, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "She was hanging all over you…"

“I know, and you had every right to assume that. But I swear, Hermione, despite what it looked like, I was a gentleman the whole night.” He looked at her, hoping she saw the truth in his gaze. “I missed you.”

“Oh.” Her eyes shone with love, and he smiled, reaching up to brush away the rogue tear. “Really?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“The greatest thing I’ve ever learnt is to love... and be loved, in return.”

“Oh,” she let out a shaky breath, the most brilliant smile appearing on her face as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Oh, _Harry_,” she murmured.

“Don’t go. Don’t go without me. You’re right, I need help, but… I need you too. I need -”

Suddenly, Harry felt like the world was tilting, and he couldn't stop. He stumbled, and she caught him under the arms.

“Harry?”

“Jus'... need a minute -” He shook his head, knowing that it was a lie falling from his lips. His heart raced in his chest, each breath an effort, and he suddenly felt very cold. He had heard of this happening to other performers but had never thought he'd fall to the same fate.

“Harry?!” She sunk to the floor with him, squeezing his hand. “Harry, what's wrong?” Her voice was panicked. "Help!" she cried out, looking around for someone to notice them.

He smiled at his love weakly, reaching to stroke her cheek. “S'alrigh',” he slurred. “Jus' tired. Long day. Found someone t'love me.”

“It's the Sleeper Dust," Neville muttered, kneeling by his side. “Call for a medic. Now.”

Hermione cupped his cheek and pressed her forehead against his. “Stay with me, Harry,” she whispered. "Stay with me. I can't lose you… Not now."

“Hermione.” His words are slow, his eyes heavy. “I never did say thanks for the poem, did I? You're a wonderful writer.”

“Harry - please, love stay -”

“Told you it was beautiful. Just like you.” He takes a deep breath. “Just like...”

“Harry? Harry?!”

His eyes closed, and all he can feel is her hand on his face. “Just like you,” he breathed before the darkness takes him.

* * *

Hermione stared down at Harry's sleeping form, her heart aching at the sight of him. He had been unconscious the past few days, and while the medics told her that he would wake in time, she was growing nervous in the time it was taking.

“Harry?”

He is still. Sleeping, not moving. Lost somewhere within his own mind. She sat down in her chair next to him, her thumb stroking his knuckles, taking comfort in his solid warmth. Most of her days were like this - her visiting and talking with him, going over what he had missed while he was in his coma.

“The trial convened today to pass judgement over Dumbledore.” She smiled slightly. “I do not think he will be a bother to anyone for a long time. Many of your friends testified. They were brave.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “They showed your picture in court. I am not ashamed to say that I cried.”

Many others had cried too when the pictures of his scars had been shown. She wondered how he had kept going, even in those dark days. Perhaps his writing had helped. She never would have guessed the pain that Harry was in when he wrote, as he works were always so bright and cheerful. _An escape to the pain_, she mused.

“I, ah... I wrote our story. I hope you do not mind, but I had to put it down in words.” She smiled again, stronger now. “You changed me, you know. I never thought… never, in all my life, would I find love in a brothel. And yet there you were, my love. I hope you were happy for a time, with me.” She felt as if she would cry. "Please, Harry, please wake up."

His body is still, but his hands warm. She gripped his hand tightly, wishing desperately that he would grasp hers hand back.

“I love you,” she whispered, “and I am so glad I found you. My dear, dear love.” Leaning over, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips.

She hums softly, one hand holding onto his tightly. "And you can tell everybody, that this is your song… It may be quite simple, but now that it's done, I hope you don’t mind… I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words… How wonderful life is, while you're in the world." She continued to hum, closing her eyes as she leant forward, leaning against his side.

Suddenly, a hand was stroking her hair.

"I hope you're not crying," Harry teased, coughing slightly.

Hermione pulled away, eyes wide. "Oh my goodness, Harry!" she cried out, tears of joy falling down her cheeks. "Oh my god, Harry." She gripped his hand tightly, kissing him tenderly. She left his side for a moment to pop her head into the hallway. "He's awake!" she shouted to the medic on duty.

Rushing back to his side, she cupped his face. "Oh, Harry, my sweet, sweet, Harry. Sit tight, they'll look you over."

Hermione stepped back as the medic checked Harry's vitals, adjusted his intravenous drip, and promised to return with some food.

"I thought I had died," Harry croaked out once the two of them were alone again.

"You almost did," Hermione said, her voice cracking. The tears were falling steadily now, her heart aching with relief and love. "We were almost too late… the drug was still in your system." She let out a shaky breath. "But we got you help in time… Neville saw to that."

"I'll have to thank him," Harry muttered.

"He'll be here soon," Hermione offers. "Neville visits every day." She looked at Harry shyly. "You know, Neville told me that you've been paying off his debt instead of worrying about your own."

Harry blushed. "Er, yeah, I did."

Hermione smiled. "Harry Potter, for someone who claimed they didn't know love before me, you seem to be rather daft." Hermione shook her head at his confused look. "Love comes in many forms, Harry. If you didn't love Neville, you wouldn't have done what you did."

He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, suddenly realising that Hermione was right. He did love Neville, in a way. He was his brother, for all intents and purposes.

"I love you, Hermione."

She kissed him tenderly. "And I love you, Mister Harry Potter, and I hope that you know, I'm never letting you go. Not know that I've found you, and you're free." Reaching up, she brushed some hair from his face and peered into his green eyes. She was so relieved to see his eyes wide and to have him awake... She had honestly feared for the worst.

Harry grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He kissed her back. "Hermione, love?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Would you read me some of our story?"

Hermione's gaze softened as she reached into her bag. "Nothing would make me happier." Taking out the book, she began to read their story to him.


End file.
